


Time Spent Apart (Is Probably Not Well Spent)

by xtenn



Series: The Viscount Who Sure As Hell Didn't Deserve Kate [10]
Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Drinking, F/M, Friendship, Love Letters, Miscommunication, Separations, Siblings, Sisters, Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:54:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtenn/pseuds/xtenn
Summary: And after the colossal fuck-up that was Anthony's behaviour at Aubrey Hall, what happened next?This is a canon rewrite that started as a one shot and is now a series but should probably be chapters in a single work. All credit is due to Ms Quinn for her characters and stories - I've taken some of her words and twisted them into this, a journey into a different trouser leg of time.
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield, Edwina Sheffield & Kate Sheffield, Edwina Sheffield and Mr Bagwell
Series: The Viscount Who Sure As Hell Didn't Deserve Kate [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129715
Comments: 26
Kudos: 138





	1. Anthony

At first Anthony drank.

He locked himself in his study at Aubrey Hall, leaving his family to deal with the departing house guests. Violet watched his closed door, with heartbreakingly sad eyes, and left for London as well.

Benedict and Colin dragged him out the next day and threw him in the lake to sober up. His housekeeper tutted at the vomit on the carpet. Simon then glared until Anthony got on his horse, and reminded him of his duties to parliament and to his family for the entire ride back to town.

No one mentioned Kate again.

When his hangover finally cleared, Anthony worked. After all, parliament was in session. Important matters needed to be debated and decided. Meetings needed to be held, and discussions had. And from the moment he was no longer required in Parliament, he was making the journey to Aubrey Hall, attending in person to matters of his estate. Roofs must be fixed! Tenants must be listened to! Crops and cattle should be considered! New equipment should be researched and purchased! An overdue renovation in the servants' quarters was finally about to begin! Every last letter received a response - detailed and prompt - and many more enquiries were sent! His time was short on this Earth, and so if he could not marry this season as he had promised himself he would do, then at least he could ensure the estate was in perfect condition for his siblings and their heirs.

After three weeks, his steward almost snapped at him. The problem with well-run estates and competent staff, mused Anthony, is there is simply not enough to do to improve them. 

Somehow, he was always too busy to attend any social events. His Mother sighed, disappointed, and said nothing. Colin and Benedict exchanged frustrated glances.

More Whistledown articles were published, of course - the bee sting was discussed, but only to wish Kate well. Anthony's name wasn't even listed. A small mercy, for her sake, Anthony supposed - but he had been ridiculously irritated to not see their names together in print. Similarly, Anthony grimaced at the mocking tone used when Whistledown reported that his absence from London society was either due to a broken heart or over work. His eyes glazed over, uncaring, at the many different gentlemen listed in connection with Edwina - her last name would still catch his eye, of course. Worst of all was that Kate was never mentioned again - not once. Not a single comment about her gowns or her dancing partners or her participation in society. _Nothing._

On his first night back at his club, there had been the usual round of derision and mocking commentary - as was usual when someone attracted Whistledown's ire. Simon and Benedict had even led the jokes at his expense - but after that night, it was forgotten. No one had even used Kate's name. Anthony wondered at that, and thanked the Lord for giving him his family and friends.

One night he tried going to a brothel. He had not been without a mistress since Oxford - and he thought someone, anyone would get Kate out of his head. But none of the young ladies paraded for his enjoyment would suit, and he left, itchy with an irrepressible anger for no reason he could name.

Her painting came back from the framers. Still wrapped in brown paper, it sat in the hall of his London home. At first he thought he should send it to her - then another week passed, and he still hadn't done it, and so there it was. Unopened and unappreciated. 

All of his siblings tried to engage him, drawing him out of his study at Bridgerton House for family meals or to go for a walk. Daphne confirmed that the friendship between Mrs Sheffield and Mother had finally been renewed, but he made no comment. Colin complained of insufferable card parties between Eloise, Penelope and the Sheffields that barred him from the drawing room at Bridgerton House while raucous giggling could be heard. The card parties occurred regularly. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, from 3pm. Strangely, Anthony would never visit Bridgerton House at those times. Benedict said he had been painting - watercolours, in the park, sometimes with friends. Anthony unexpectedly never even asked which friends, and never stopped by the park. The brothers met to fence, as usual, and he moodily and violently trounced them every time, without comment. He boxed with Simon, once, and unsurprisingly left the ring as a bloody, aching mess. Simon complained that he didn't even try - Anthony decided he didn't hate himself so much as to be punished so severely a second time. 

When he was at Aubrey Hall, he slept in the armchair in the library. During the night, the spectre of Kate would always arrive. In a nightgown, her hair down, holding her candle - and each time he imagined her fingertips, the ending would change and he would refuse to let her go. 


	2. Kate

The first ball was the worst. 

Kate had expected comments about the bee sting - it had been mentioned in Whistledown, after all, even without Lord Bridgerton's name. Even if she wasn't sure how grateful she was for the red swelling that persisted on her collarbone, at least it looked real and some sympathy would ensue. But Edwina that night had worn a gown in a new style, and had danced two dances with each of two separate young lords, and what was a bee sting to that? 

The second ball was better - significantly less anticipation.

And by the third, Kate had been blissfully forgotten other than as Miss Edwina's sister. She would enjoy the spectacle and the music, and she danced with Edwina's idiot suitors, of course - stepping on toes as necessary. There seemed to be even more of these now, all more idiotic than the next, and they were all still trying to gain approval - ironically for someone with no suitors, Kate's dance card was regularly full. But when it came to ballrooms, she remained firmly in the shadow of Edwina's beauty.

At times, Kate would see a familiar face or head of curly dark hair. Her palms would sweat and her mouth would suddenly be dry, her heart thundering against her sternum. It was only ever Benedict or Colin, but they always acknowledged her. As the relationship between Mrs Sheffield and Lady Bridgerton repaired, the two families became somewhat friendly - sometimes one or the other brothers would ask for a dance at a ball, and they were always gracious enough to appear delighted by the prospect when she accepted. Mrs Sheffield pursed her lips but said nothing - over time, as she noticed that Benedict with his easy charm and Colin with his quick wit could make Kate laugh, Mrs Sheffield began to soften towards the younger Bridgerton men. 

Both brothers would somehow always manage to mention Anthony, casually, as part of their conversation, but with enough regularity that Kate wondered anxiously if it was deliberate. She would bite her tongue, smile broadly, and change the topic of conversation as quickly as possible. Kate knew that there would come a time when she would hear of Anthony's engagement - and then of his marriage - and then of his children, and all of his glorious life ahead - and she thought of these mentions of his name as practice.

 _Don't let them see it upsets you_ , she would tell herself.

She played the flute, every day, with more fierce determination than skill.

She walked Newton, every day, but she never went to the Serpentine. 

Twice a week, she joined Eloise, Penelope and Edwina for cards and tea at the Bridgerton House - Kate did not know who initiated this, but Edwina would neither go alone nor take no for an answer. Even Daphne and Violet joined them at times, although when they did, the conversation was significantly less ribald. She was even gratified to be invited to the park with Benedict and some artist friends to paint. It was quite something to have Henry Granville critique her work, and even remember her name when he saw her next. A compliment to remember when a gentleman's eyes passed her over in favour of her sister.

She never saw Anthony. It was a relief, really. 

"Does it bother you, Kate?" asked Edwina one night, when she had crept in under her covers to talk. "Spending so much time with his family?"

"Of course not. They are all lovely - and it was nothing, with Lord Bridgerton. Truly." Kate smiled, and forced herself to believe it. "And I think it is lovely for Mary to have a friend in Lady Bridgerton. Don't you?"

Yes, thought Edwina bitterly, it's all so _lovely_.


	3. Edwina and Matthew

_Write to me, Matthew._

Matthew looked at the note, and the address - folding it open and closed again, reading it over and over. Edwina had pressed it into his palm during breakfast, when everyone was laughing and talking about someone called Cressida, and then she had left. 

So he wrote. Something short, at first. No obligations, no promises. _It was lovely to meet you. What are you reading?_

Edwina wrote back, a letter full of questions about his work and his studies, his life in Oxford. She wrote of the books she had read - and those she wanted to read. _Tell me what it is like, living in a university town. And what should I read next?_

So he wrote again - longer, answering all her questions, and asking more questions of her - and even more letters followed. Stories of his childhood spent outdoors in fields and streams, and his entirely masculine family. His elderly and impecunious father, now almost an invalid, but still able to spin a yarn. HIs overworked elder brother, already a widower, attempting to manage his legal practice, their small estate and his two small motherless boys. Joyful chubby rascals with sticky fingers that called him Uncle Matty. A shared, chaotic household, living together in their old mansion, ruled by their fierce but loyal housekeeper. Close enough to his work at the university that he did not keep separate lodgings. Allusions of their genteel poverty, scratched out on cheap paper. _I wish they could meet you, Edwina. They would adore you._

Edwina wrote of her father, the shock of his death, and of her mother and her high hopes for her daughter's marriage. Naturally, she wrote of Kate constantly, her letters inadvertently revealing a heartache and sorrow. Edwina talked of the ton, of endless balls and musicales and theatre and opera, and of trying to enjoy every moment of what would be her only season in London. Little hints that Edwina hoped would dissuade a fortune hunter. _Do you read Whistledown in Oxford? Don't believe it all, of course._

But Matthew still wrote: of his travels to Greece, and the success of his dig in Kos. Papers he was writing, the experts he was working with. He wrote of the future - of his dreams for travel and work. _I would take you to Kos, if I could._ The colour of the ocean - a turquoise you could only imagine. The heat, reflecting off white buildings. The food: whole lamb on a spit at Easter, vine leaves and olives. 

His pen hesitated as he contemplated writing of marriage and children. Of telling her that he had an opportunity to study the law, to move away from his lifelong passion into a more lucrative earning, shared with his brother. He needed only two years and he could provide for her and her family - nothing luxurious, no silks and jewels, but it would be sufficient. Their large empty home would welcome three such women gladly. That he had seen through her words, and he did not care - although, he wondered often if perhaps Edwina did. But he could not yet commit that to paper, feeling both the desire and the sacrifice, and he could not ask that of her or of himself. _I have time_ , he thought. 

So Edwina's next letter, unaware of his sentiments and his intentions, told him bluntly. _I have no dowry, and we should each marry into a fortune to ensure our families are cared for in the years to come. I understand if you do not wish to continue our correspondence._

But Matthew wrote back: _Choose adventure, Edwina. Choose me. I will call on you. Wait for me._

\---

Edwina showed Kate the letter, an incredulous smile on her face and tears in her eyes. "I think I'm in love."

Kate was shocked - and embarrassed, having been too absorbed in her own troubles to have considered the needs of her sister. Who? And Edwina's face glowed as she talked.

"He doesn't have much money," Edwina added softly. "But I really like him."

"Then I am certain I will like him as well," Kate said firmly. "When may I meet him?"

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry ... well, not that sorry. Making Anthony miserable is my thing.
> 
> Thank you for the messages and the kudos!


End file.
